


Sonido no Silencio

by cortexikid



Series: Schneider’s Choice [5]
Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: 'schneider's choice' series from penelope's pov, Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I should have just made this a WIP I know sorry, Nightmares, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Schneider gives Penelope some home truths, She tries to grapple with what that could mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: Avery’s voice, quiet yet firm, travelled down the hallway, “I think you need space to figure out what you really want, Schneider. Me? Or the Alvarezes.”Penelope’s stomach dropped like a penny off the Empire State.No, no, please, no.The image of a Schneider-less life came to her unwanted, flashing before her eyes like a macabre film reel. No family dinners, no baseball with Alex, no handywork with Elena, no overt flirting with Lydia, no late-night chats and comforting hugs and best friend shenanigans with her…No more ‘Hola’ with a hard H.Shit.“You can’t ask me to choose, Avery. Please.”He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying.





	Sonido no Silencio

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation of "Mariposas no Mantequilla." Still from Penelope's POV. Enjoy!

She woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering against her ribcage at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. A collage of images flashed in her brain as she fought to control her rapid breathing.

 

She snapped her eyes shut, counting backwards in her head…

 

_Diez._

 

_Nueve._

 

_Ocho._

 

_Siet—fuck!_

 

Penelope shot out of the bed, scrambling as the sheets wrapped around her legs like vines. Growling in frustration, she untangled herself and stood up, pulling her damp hair into a messy bun, a few loose strands still sticking to her flushed face.

 

Her eyes darted around the room, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm her down.

 

_Count all the red things…red things…alarm-clock letters, comforter, picture frame, blood pooling between my fingers—_

 

“No!” she hissed to herself, trying to banish those thoughts from her racing mind.

 

She stumbled out of her room and down the hallway, tiptoeing as quietly as she could into the living room.

 

It was eerily dark.

 

Like stepping into an abyss.

 

Her heart lurched uncomfortably in her chest, anxiety gnawing under her skin like an unrelenting itch.

 

She was at his door and knocking before her brain could catch up with her.

 

As she waited, she chewed on her bottom lip, mentally trying to retrace her steps, catalogue how it was exactly she got here, but it was all a blur. Glancing down, she was surprised to find she had forgotten to put on shoes.

 

_No! Shit—you’re not supposed to bother him with this crap anymore. You’re so fucking stupid, Alvarez. What the hell are you do—_

 

Before she could turn on her heel and bolt away, his door opened gently, revealing a clearly sleep-rumbled Schneider clad in chequered pants and a well-loved, grey Henley.

 

He took a half-glance over his shoulder that had Penelope worrying for a split second that maybe she misjudged and Avery was indeed staying over tonight, but before she could dwell on it, he took a step toward her, murmuring a soft, “C’mere, Pen.”

 

That was all she needed to leap forward and wrap her arms around him in a tight hug, her breathing uneven as she buried her face into his chest, the fresh-linen scent of his sleep-shirt calmingly familiar.

 

He didn’t seem to mind her covering him in snot and tears however, merely enveloping her right back, pushing the door closed with one hand over her shoulder and slowly leading them over to his couch.

 

She tightly clenched the fabric of his Henley in her fist as they took a seat, trying to catch her breath. His hand grasped hers where it lay on his chest, squeezing gently.

 

“Bad dream?” he asked quietly, lips brushing along her hairline.  

 

She forced herself to nod, her nose accidentally bumping against his neck. She swallowed nervously as his spicy cologne reached her nostrils. Her stomach twisted, an odd sensation settling in her abdomen.

 

“Wanna talk about it?”

 

Penelope squeezed her eyes shut even tighter against the onslaught of images vying to break her down. Gunfire. An explosion. Shaking hands and blood-curling screams.

 

She sniffled, trying to get some air in through her blocked nose.

 

“I was back there.”

 

Her voice sounded terrible, croaky and raw as if she spent the last hour screaming.

 

Maybe she did. If only in her head.

 

“I was back there and panicking and didn’t have dogs in wigs to calm me down.”

 

She hated how vulnerable she sounded. How weak. But she was just…so damn tired. Tired of broken sleep and haunted nights and shaking in the dark. She was tired of all it.

 

“You’re safe now, Pen,” Schneider was murmuring as she tried to pull herself together, “Well, your home is downstairs but, you know what—”

 

She cut him off with a nod.

 

“I know,” she sighed, eyes opening a fraction to stare at where her own hand lay under his, “It’s just…sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like—it’s like I’ve teleported back there. Like I blink and my bed is gone, my home, my safety is gone. And I’m alone. And then I wake up, back in my bed, in my home, safe, but I’m still…alone. I—It gets too quiet at night, Schneider.”

 

It had been one of her biggest fears, back before she knew what real fear felt like.

 

Being alone.

 

Engulfed by the dark, smothered by the silence.

 

It had made her skin crawl.

 

She thought she was over it, though. Thought she had been alone long enough now to have it no longer bothered her.

 

And most of the time? It didn’t. She was a grown-ass woman who could handle herself.

 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t miss the squeeze of a hand and a voice in the darkness that told her everything was okay, anyway.

 

“I used to hate going to bed drunk.”

 

Her heart clenched painfully at the sound of his voice. It taking on a deliberately neutral tone, almost robotic.

 

She forced her head up a little off his shoulder, unwilling to not look him in the eye for such a serious moment.

  
“I used to try and sober up sometimes,” he continued in that deadened, sham of a voice, “Before collapsing into bed because I…I couldn’t bear how it felt to be on my own. Wasted. The whole world around me spinning and feeling like I was the only one with motion sickness. And waking up, god, that was the icing on the cake because not only was I alone, but I felt like death, inside and out. There’s nothing more pathetic than a hungover mess in a quiet, dark apartment.”

 

Penelope unclenched her fist from his shirt to catch his hand, squeezing gently as she saw a tear slide down his cheek.

 

Her heart broke for him, realising not for the first time just how much her supposedly-goofy, man-child of a neighbour had suffered in his life.

 

Alone.

 

But neither of them was alone now.

 

They had each other.

 

A warmth bloomed in the pit of her stomach as Schneider suddenly sniffled, clearing his throat and breaking eye contact.

 

“Crap, sorry Pen. I’m doing a terrible job at cheering you up.”

 

“No,” she shook her head immediately, struggling with finding the words to describe how this was actually just what she needed, “No it’s—it’s good knowing that I’m not the only one that gets it.”

 

She hoped he could hear just how much she meant that.

 

He shifted a little, thumb brushing across her knuckle as he mumbled, “I’m not like you though, Penelope. What…what you went through,  _go_  through is…”

 

She watched silently as he himself struggled for the right words, “It’s different. I’m just a drunk with abandonment issues.  You’re a frickin’ hero.”

 

A small smile formed on her face without conscious effort. Still, she couldn’t have him thinking he wasn’t strong in his own way. She leaned a little closer to him, her palm gently tilting his jaw to try get him to look at her.

 

Dark blue eyes, unobstructed by his usual glasses, met hers.

 

They really were _incredibly_ blue. She wasn’t sure if she ever noticed just how much, before.

 

Suddenly, she found the right words.

 

“It may not be the same circumstances, Schneider. But the feelings? The emotions? They’re the same. How I feel, when I’m anxious and depressed, it  _is_  like the whole world is spinning and I’m the only one puking. The apartment  _does_  feel too quiet even when Mami’s playing her tunes and Alex and Elena are at each other’s throats. It’s like every drop of colour from my surroundings seeps away until it’s all grey and dark. You—” she gently poked his chest with her free hand, “ _You_  get that.”

 

And god, he really did. She wasn’t bluffing when she told the group that Schneider got her. It scared her sometimes, just how much. As she thought on it, she wasn’t sure she actually ever told _him_ that…maybe it was time she did.

 

She gave a nod to herself, pressing her finger a little firmer into his chest, “You get me, Schneider. In a way I don’t think anyone ever has.”

 

His expression was priceless. It really was.

 

Those blue eyes bugged out for a split second, complete astonishment clouding them before he collected himself.

 

“You get me too, Pen. Better than anyone.”

 

She could feel her smile widened even further, her own eyes betraying her with a fresh batch of tears threatening to fall. God, she really had no idea until just now, how much that actually meant to her.

 

To know someone so well and be known in return. There really wasn’t anything quite like it.

 

“We’re saps,” she chuckled, reaching up to wipe away a treacherous tear.

 

“Oh, total saps,” he agreed with a nod of his head and a smirk about his lips, “the sappiest. But we hide it well, I think.”

 

Penelope didn’t have to see her own face to know much it screamed disbelief.

 

“Okay,” he conceded with a roll of his eyes, “ _You_  hide it well.”

 

She winked, “Damn right.”

 

They shared another grin, before Penelope was hit again by how dark their surroundings were.

 

_Shit! What time is it?_

 

Glanced at her watch, she gaped, “I’m sorry for waking you, Schneider. God, it’s nearly three thirty. I should—”

 

She went to stand up, but he reached out, gently touching her arm.

 

“You sure you’re okay? I can put on some cocoa, or—”

 

She silenced him with another shake of her head. Cocoa honestly sounded wonderful, and the thought of returning to her bedroom was not a pleasant one, but she had already bothered him enough for one night.

 

“No, I’m good. Thanks though, Schneider. I mean it. I owe you.” Her heart felt a little heavy as she said the words, but at least it wasn’t racing anymore.

 

She felt rather than saw him stand up and follow her to the door. 

 

“You don’t owe me anything, Pen. That’s what friends are for.”

 

She threw him another small smile as he opened the door to allow her to step through to the hallway. Slowly, she turned, eyes searching his face as she made up her mind about something she had been sitting on for a while. He deserved to know.

 

“I don’t say this enough. But you really are my best friend, Schneider. The best I’ve ever had.”

 

If she thought his face had been priceless before, now it was downright ethereal.

 

“Right…right back at ya, bestie,” he wheezed, leaning against the doorframe.

 

Without her brain having too much input into the decision, Penelope found herself leaning up on her tip-toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek so quickly that she questioned whether it had actually happened by the time her bare heels returned to the floor.

 

“Night, bestie.”

 

And with that, she forced herself to stride away, back straight, head held high, able to silently admit that she was feeling a hell of a lot better than she did thirty minutes ago.

 

“Night…” she heard Schneider call softly after her just as she stepped into the elevator.

 

That once small smile was a full grin now.

 

Maybe she had been a little hasty before. Maybe she could still go to Schneider every now and again.

 

After all, it was like he said. It was what friends are for.

 

~*~

 

He was antsier than usual. Fidgety and jumpy like he’d had twenty-four cups of coffee today or something. It was when he accidentally spilled his second glass of water on the kitchen table that she had had enough.

 

“Ay, shaky-pants, what the hell is up with you? You drink a barrel of Mami’s café con leche, or what?”

 

She knew an underlined thread of worry laced her words. She really, really hoped it was too much coffee and not…something else that was causing her best friend to act like this.

 

_Please don’t be withdrawal. Or a hangover. Or—_

 

Schneider threw her a look of sheepishness, not guilt. So, no. He definitely hadn’t backslid. But still there was definitely something moulding him into a bundle of nerves, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

 

“Yeah uh—I may have had a coffee, or seven, this morning,” he mumbled, hastily cleaning up his spill, running a hand through his hair, “I uh…just haven’t been sleeping too good, is all.”

 

Well, Penelope knew how that felt.

 

She wiped her hands on the dishcloth draped over her shoulder, left the pot simmering on the stove and made her way out to him, tilting her head.

 

“Alright, spill. What’s going on?”

 

“Ms Avery wants him to meet sus padres and he is…how you say…freakin’ the F out,” Lydia answered, not looking up from her position on the couch, absentmindedly flicking through a magazine.

 

“Lydia!”

 

She whirled around, throwing up her hands, “Ay, eSchneider, calm down, they will love you. It is just the opera. Es muy sencillo.”

 

Penelope bumped him with her elbow, “You know I hate to agree with her, but she’s right—”

 

“Of course I am—”

 

“They will love you,” she cut across her mother loudly, patting his shoulder, “You have nothing to worry about, Schneider.”

 

He gave her a tight smile before gesturing over his shoulder, “I’ll just—go wash my hands for dinner.”

 

Mother and daughter exchanged glances as he stumbled towards the bathroom without a backwards glance.

 

“He’s really worried about his,” she stated rather than asked, as Lydia stood up from the couch to finish setting the table.

 

“Sí. I…may have overheard his and Avery’s conversation yesterday,” her Mami murmured, all false-nonchalance, picking up a fork and inspecting it for god knows what.

 

“Oh you ‘may’, huh?” Penelope asked with a roll of her eyes, “And what exactly did you ‘maybe’ overhear?”

 

Lydia waved a hand in the air, still not meeting her eye, “Something about meeting Avery's parents, Anthony and Maria, at the opera house to see La Traviata next Saturday night.”

 

“Wow, Mami,” Penelope replied, tone laced with faux-awe, “That’s some amount of info you got from a conversation you ‘may have overheard.’ You shoulda been a spy.”

 

“Double-oh-siete,” she struck a pose, finger gun aimed to the ceiling, “Riera. Lydia Margarita del Carmen Inclán Maribona Leyte-Vidal de Riera.”

 

“Hmm, doesn’t really have the same ring to it.”

 

Her mother fixed her with an unimpressed glare before her eyes flickered towards the closed bathroom door.

 

“I have not seen him this nervous in a while, Lupe.”

 

Penelope followed her gaze, “Yeah, me neither. Pity you got banned from the opera house for life, you and Dr Berkowitz could’ve been there for some moral support.”

 

Lydia stilled, cogs clearly turning in her head.

 

“Mami…”

 

The older woman reached forward and patted her daughter on the shoulder, “You leave it to me, Lupe. I will figure out a way to let Avery’s padres know just how amazing our eSchneider is.”

 

She couldn’t help but smile at her mom, a little conspiratorially.

 

“I know you will.”

 

“She will what?”

 

Mother and daughter whirled around to meet a curious Schneider, standing at the edge of the room, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around himself.

 

“I will…” Lydia began, eyes shifting to her daughter for help.

 

“She will make you some Dulce de Leche for dessert,” Penelope finished, gently pushing him towards the kitchen, “Go on, she’ll show ya how it’s done.”

 

“You’re—so strong,” he gaped at her as continued to move him easily.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she rolled her eyes, adopting her Staff Sargent’s tone, “Now get your flat ass in there and get to work.”

 

He swallowed, saluting limply with the wrong hand, “Yes ma’am.”

 

Penelope smirked as she watched him flounder, turning on the spot and looking around the kitchen helplessly.

 

“Aw, he’s like a lost perrito,” Lydia murmured sympathetically, squeezing her daughter’s hands, “We’ll help him find his way, mija. Don’t you worry.”

 

She watched as her mother sauntered into the room with her signature flourish and immediately take over, coming to the overwhelmed Schneider’s rescue, as she was wont to do.

 

“Yeah,” Penelope muttered under her breath, “We always do.”

 

~*~

 

“You don’t have to keep coming to these things with me, you know.”

 

Penelope ignored Schneider’s comment as they made their way into the room.

 

“Seriously Pen, you don’t need—”

 

“I’m here, Schneider,” she mumbled quietly as they weaved in and out of people, “I’ll only leave if you want me to.”

 

Her steps faltered, she staring pointedly ahead as she asked even quieter, “Do you want me to?”

 

Schneider appeared in her peripheral vision, shaking his head vigorously, “No, no, of course not. I’m…I’m glad you’re here.”

 

The knot that had sprung up in her stomach loosened a little.

 

Nodding silently, she took the lead as they made their way over to the coffee and donuts table, trying not to make it obvious that she was scanning the crowd for a very familiar face.

 

Very attractive face.

 

Very familiar, attractive, smiling face that was looking right at her.

 

“Nick! Hi!”

 

She felt Schneider bump into her as she halted in her tracks at the sight of his sponsor.

 

_So much for subtle. Get it together, Alvarez!_

 

A warm smile broke out on Nick’s face as they locked eyes, “Penelope! Great to see you again.”

 

A short laugh bubbled up her throat. A laugh she would definitely not classify as a giggle, no matter what Schneider would try to claim later.

 

Fingers rested lightly on her shoulders, before a cup of hot, coffee-flavoured water was thrust into her hand.

 

“Yep, Pen’s the best. My own personal cheerleader.”

 

Penelope playfully elbowed Schneider in the ribs, “Please. I think we all know I’m not the cheerleader type.”

 

Schneider let out a winded gasp, “Yeah, with your strength? You’re more of a pint-sized quarterback.”

 

"And you'd be the mascot, String Bean."

 

Nick let out a chuckle as Schneider scoffed in offense.

 

“You guys always crack me up. You should have a podcast or something.”

 

Schneider gave a honking laugh, “I don’t know man, I mean, what would we even call it? Something like, I don’t know, _Shooting The Shit With Schneider and Alvarez_? That’s crazy…”

 

Penelope side-eyed him, “You gave it a lot of thought, huh?”

 

He threw her a dismissive wave, his cheeks noticeably flushed as Nick raised his coffee cup at them both in adieu, “Duty calls.”

 

The pair watched him go for a moment before turning back to the table, Schneider grabbing some coffee as Penelope loaded up on donuts for the two of them. She could tell that there was something unsaid between them. Something that Schneider no doubt wanted to get off his chest, but he didn’t know how. She had a feeling that tonight of all nights, meant something for him.

 

It was his three-month chip.

 

Honestly, Penelope had been surprised when Schneider not-so-subtly implied that he would like company tonight, knowing well the significance of this particular meeting. She had thought that it would have been Avery that would accompany him on such an occasion. She had attended Schneider’s meetings a couple of times over the last few weeks, Schneider finally caving and acquiesced her joining him, Penelope and oftentimes Lydia too.

 

She did find it odd that Schneider and Avery had never come to a meeting just the two of them, though. She had been meaning to ask him about it, but worried that the answer would…concern her. Schneider had seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately, she really didn’t want to rock the boat. If he didn’t want his girlfriend accompanying him to meetings unchaperoned, then Penelope just had to be a good best friend and ensure that happened. For now, at least.

 

“Spit it out, Schneider,” she said quietly but firmly as she grabbed the last glazed donut, knowing they were his favourite. It was the least she could do for his stress.

 

“Pen I—” she could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face as he struggled to find his words.

 

“Before I go up there I…I just want you to know that—”

 

“Okay everybody if we could please take our seats and welcome our next speaker—Pat.”

 

Schneider froze at Nick’s voice, rooted to the spot as everyone shuffled around him, heading to their seats.

 

Penelope reached out, patting his free hand gently before taking the coffee cup from his other and gesturing to the podium, throwing him a quick wink.

 

_You got this._

 

The words were unspoken, but Schneider nodded all the same, taking an unsteady step forward, wiping his palms on his jeans. When he got to the podium, he slowly turned to the group, taking a deep, shaky breath, clenching and unclenching his hands.

 

“Hi. My name is Pat, and I’m an alcoholic.”

 

Penelope threw him a small reassuring smile, a sense of pride rising from the depths of her abdomen that had steadily grown stronger and stronger over the last few months.

 

“Hi, Pat,” she and the rest of the group responded.

 

He took another breath, mouth opening and closing several times as he visibly struggled with how to begin. Finally, after a few seconds, he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

 

“I don’t think I’m…a good person.”

 

Penelope’s heart clenched in her chest, frowning as she eagerly waited for her friend to continue.

 

Schneider wiped a palm over his mouth, swallowing around what was no doubt a lump in his throat.

 

“I—I try to be. Good, I mean. But most of the time? I fail.”

 

Penelope didn’t need to see her own face to know that it was silently screaming, _“What the hell are you talking about, Bobo?!”_

  
Which probably explained why Schneider wasn’t looking at her as he spoke.

 

“For a long time…I blamed alcohol on my shittiness. But honestly, alcohol was what made me fun, interesting. Sobriety is what makes me dull. Depressing. Dependent.”

 

He finally caught her eye.

 

“I’m—I’m so dependent on my friends…my family. And—And I can’t return the favour, not really. And that makes me a shitty person, a shitty friend. They do so much for me. Every day. More than they know.”

 

A painful sensation rocked through Penelope in that moment. A pang stabbing her chest as she heard Schneider’s evaluation of himself. She desperately forced herself to remain in her seat as her best friend spoke so negatively when all she wanted to do was catapult to the front of the room and assure everyone that what he was saying was complete BS. That Schneider was an amazing man, a fantastic friend. Yes, he had his demons. But didn’t everybody? He wasn’t his disease.

 

“So, I guess, what I want to focus on for the next while is…letting my loved ones know how much I appreciate them.”

 

With that, he gave one last nod and shuffled to his seat as the chorus of applause followed his words.

 

Nick stepped into the centre of the room, an indescribable expression on his face.

 

“Thank you, Pat. Who would you like to share next?”

 

Penelope could feel the tension lining Schneider’s entire body as he sat down in the seat next to her.

 

Slowly, she reached out and clasped his hand in hers. She kept her eyes focussing straight ahead but could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of her face all the same. After a moment, she felt him squeeze her fingers in his gently.

 

They sat like that for the rest of the meeting, fingers interlaced, Penelope’s thumb tracing Schneider’s knuckles.

 

The drive home was almost deathly silent. Penelope had driven them both and sorely regretted it now. She had to keep chastising herself into watching the road and not glance over every five seconds at Schneider, who had yet to look away from the window since getting into the car.

 

She was worried. In a way she hadn’t been since she got a frantic phone call from Alex down in the laundry room.

 

She wished she knew what to say. No. She _did_ know what to say. She just wished she had the courage to say it. To know in her heart that Schneider would be able to hear her and know what she was saying was the truth.

 

But after tonight, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to. And she wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate her trying. Despite what he may have said.

 

It was just as she was reaching out to turn on the radio to drown out the awful, guilt-ridden silence, when he spoke.

 

“Spit it out, Pen. I know you want to.”

 

Her heart leapt into her throat, her eyes tearing from the road to the side of his face as if magnetically compelled.

 

“We don’t need to talk if you’re not ready, Schneider.”

 

He let out a scoff, then. It startled her almost as much as his speech did.

 

“So, you’re not gonna tell me that everything I said tonight was complete B.S?”

 

Sometimes she really did have to wonder if he was telepathic.

 

She was signalling right and turning in to a near-empty parking lot before she knew it. That finally caught Schneider’s attention as his gaze snapped from the window to her face in an instant.

 

“What—”

 

“Okay, bobo, you listen to me. It’s _my_ turn to talk.”

 

She put the car in park, turned off the engine, plunging them both into darkness as the inside lights automatically switched off. The soft glow of what she now realised was a Wendy’s sign was all that basked them from the gloom.

 

Heaving a sigh, she dropped her car keys into her lap, took off her seat belt and turned toward him, heart hammering in her chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing that this had to be done right here and now.

 

“What you said tonight _was_ complete and utter bullshit.”

 

Her eyes flickered over his face as he winced, trying to look away from her.

 

Her hand shot out, clasping his jaw gently in her palm, slowly edging it back towards her.

 

“Schneider, look at me. Please.”

 

Slowly, his head turned a fraction more, his eyes meeting hers, shining in the dim light, noticeably glassier than usual.

 

Penelope’s heart clenched at the sight.

 

Her thumb caught the solitary tear that rolled down his cheek, gently brushing it away.

 

“You are not a shitty person,” she began quietly, hardly daring to blink lest it somehow dilute her sincerity, “you are one of the most kind, generous and amazing people I have ever known.”

 

He bit his lip, clearly trying to hold back the denial that sprang up his throat.

 

“Sobriety hasn’t made you dull, or depressing, or dependent. I—I didn’t know drunk Schneider. Not really. But I can tell you now, sober Schneider is the best Schneider.”

 

He scoffed again, quieter this time.

 

She gave his cheek a tiny tap with her palm that still brushed against his jaw.

 

“Shut up, he is. Schneider,” she sighed, letting her hand fall from his face and instead brush against his arm, “You’re fun. Dependable. A great listener…I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – you’re my best friend. You’ve done so much…for Elena, Mami, Alex…for me. Hell, you let me cover you in snot and tears when I’ve had a nightmare. Not many friends would put up with that.”

 

Schneider’s mouth dropped open as if he wanted to interrupt, but Penelope held up her hand to cut him off.

 

This was too important.

 

“And,” she continued pointedly, “I want you to know that we know you appreciate us, and _we_ appreciate you back. All versions of you. Hipster or goofy. Man-child or responsible adult. Drunk or sober.”

 

She paused, entangling their fingers again.

 

“But hopefully sober. For the rest of your life.”

 

She didn’t mean it to sound so much like a vow. She was just speaking the truth. Out loud for once. Still, she could feel the embarrassment creep in under her skin as she waited for his response.

 

It was a rare sight to see Schneider speechless. So just like last time, Penelope basked in it for as long as she could, eyes scanning his demeanour and committing it to memory. Slowly, his expression changed from shock to something a little harder to decipher.

 

“You saved my life.”

 

It was her turn to be speechless.

 

Schneider didn’t seem to notice however, his eyes adverted from her, but a look of determination crossing his face nonetheless as he continued, tone more serious with each passing second.

 

“Lydia did first. She and her sopa de pollo, every day in and out of rehab. Every time. You’d think after my fourth stint I’d get it, but honestly, she was the one that made me realise that I really had a problem, way back in the day. She gave me the strength to try again and I can never thank her enough for that.”

 

He paused, a faraway look in his eyes, no doubt reflecting on early-2000s-Schneider and all his questionable life-choices.

 

Penelope reached out to pat his hand, gently coaxing him to continue.

 

He threw her a small smile, eyes connecting with hers for a moment before darting away again.

 

“Then when you and the kids moved back in…being with you guys. Having dinner and hanging out, seeing you being a kick-ass working mom and watching Alex and Elena grow up, it’s—it’s been the highlight of my life, Pen.”

 

Her throat was tight, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

 

“And—” he cleared his throat gently, “And your friendship…it’s meant the world to me. More than you know.”

 

She couldn’t stop the tears. Not after that. She was only human.

 

“Back at ya,” she smiled, wiping away a tear from her cheek, “Goof.”

 

He let out a short laugh, choked and a little wet, but genuine.

 

Penelope squeezed his hand one more time, before putting the keys back into the ignition.

 

“Come on, I have season three of Game of Thrones DVR’d and I know how much you’re obsessed with Jaime and Brienne.”

 

She could see his gesticulation out of the corner of her eye as she pulled out of the parking lot, his tone taking on its usual air of determination he got when trying to convince her of something, “Theirs is a love story for the ages, Pen. The ultimate enemies to friends to lovers. I keep telling you, it’s beautiful. You’ll see.”

 

~*~

 

It was finally Saturday. Which brought with it, twenty-four glorious hours to lounge around the house in her pjs, with day three hair and catch up on some binge-worthy TV.

 

Ha. In her dreams.

 

Penelope loved her job, she did. She had worked her butt off for what felt like forever to get where she was now, and she didn’t regret a single second of it. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t certain drawbacks to being an RN.

 

Namely, paperwork. Lots of it.

 

Which meant, any “day off” she had was spent sitting at her kitchen table, glass of wine on one side of her and a half-empty bag of Cheetos on the other, as she frowned and squinted at her own handwriting.

 

She couldn’t help but wonder if doctors’ shoddy penmanship was somehow contagious when her cell phone, that was lying ignored under said bag of Cheetos, flashed with a notification.

 

Before she could stop herself, Penelope’s eyes were drawn to the screen.

 

_You have one new match!_

 

“Ooh, Mom, Cupid’s calling,” her daughter’s unmistakable voice rang from over her shoulder as the teen glanced down at her phone.

 

Penelope rolled her eyes as Elena took a seat next to her, plunging her hand into the bag of Cheetos and emerging with a fistful of mostly cheese dust.

 

“You’re trying internet dating again?” she asked flippantly as she messily licked her fingers, her eyes still glued to the cell phone that was still alight with the notification.

 

Penelope hummed, trying to ignore her daughter’s not-so-subtle interrogation, but after the fourth not-fooling-anyone sigh, she gave up on her paperwork and turned to her daughter, who was predictably, staring right back at her.

 

“Yes, nosy daughter of mine, I’m trying this dumb app again. So far, I’ve matched with a balding chiropractor, a 47-year-old herpetologist—”

 

Penelope held up her finger to stop Elena interjecting with what was probably the definition of the word.

 

“I googled it. Reptile expert. Dude has forty-seven snakes. You know how I know that, Elena? Because he bought one for every year he’s been alive.”

 

Her daughter winced.

 

“Why would you swipe right on him?”

 

Penelope rolled her eyes, “I didn’t. Schneider hijacked my phone and just swiped right on everybody. Said something about me being too picky and living in the moment and other white boy nonsense.”

 

Elena nodded her head in understanding, used to Schneider’s antics.

 

“And what about your newest match? What’s he like?”

 

Penelope snorted, snatching her phone, “Knowing my luck, he’s an Elvis impersonator that lives out of his car.”

 

Elena chuckled, craning her neck to look at the picture that had popped up on the phone.

 

“Ooooh.”

 

Penelope felt her eyebrows raise up to her hairline as she was met with a tall, handsome Latino.

 

“A veterinarian…” Elena cooed, “Aww, mom, look—puppies!”

 

Penelope shook her gaze from where it had glued to the impressive biceps that peeked out from under his green scrubs, landing on the two adorable puppies that he held in his giant hands.

 

_Dios Mio._

 

“They’re cute.”

 

“He’s cute.”

 

She quirked an eyebrow at her daughter who scoffed.

 

“What? I’m gay, not blind.”

 

Penelope laughed, conceding she had a point.

 

“So…you gonna message him?”

 

She sighed, flicking through his pictures again, silently admitting that he was the best of a pretty bad bunch.

 

“I don’t know, Elena. I mean—what are the chances that I’m gonna find Mr. Right on my phone?”

 

Said phone began buzzing in her hand, startling her. She caught her daughter’s eyes before glancing down, seeing a picture of a feather-boa-clad Schneider flashing across her screen.

 

“Sorry, gotta get this. Schneider’s meeting Avery’s parents tonight and he’s probably—“

 

“Freaking out?” Elena offered as she stood up from the table, squeezing her mom’s shoulder and heading to her room.

 

Penelope hit the green button, raising the phone to her ear, “Schneider?”

 

“Pen. Hi. What’s up, girl?”

 

She paused, trying to evaluate his tone. He sounded weird, like always, but there was definitely an added tension in his voice. She decided to play it safe.

 

“Well you called me, dude,” she replied with a faux-surfer-dude tone, sitting up straighter in her chair and adding more seriously, “What’s up? You okay?”

 

“A night at the opera,” he gasped as if he had just run a marathon.

 

She frowned, trying to follow his logic.

 

“A great Queen album. Next.”

 

“What?”

 

She smirked at his confusion.

 

“You’re not calling me for answers to help cheat in a quiz, are you?”

 

She knew well he wasn’t. She knew what tonight was. Had heavily suggested that perhaps her Mami and Doctor Berkowitz should make an appearance at the opera tonight. Moral support and all that. Schneider had been driving himself crazy with the impending visit of Avery’s parents, had barely slept the entire week leading up to tonight. And Penelope should know. She hardly slept either. Had instead been keeping him company and assuring him that everything would go fine.

 

Except, everything didn’t sound fine. So, she kept up her end of their little coping mechanism. Their back and forth always did have a way of calming her friend.

 

“I thought your mom was banned from the theatre for eating Dr B’s loopy lozanges?”

 

She suppressed a chuckle, “Dr Berkowitz may have put in a good word, and a better wad of cash in some hands. Next?”

 

“Avery didn’t tell her parents I’m an alcoholic.”

 

Penelope bit her lip, her stomach lurching uncomfortably.

 

“How are you holding up?”

 

She tried to keep her voice calm, steady. She knew he needed that now. Was probably panicked and hurt at the implication of Avery keeping something like that from her family.

 

“He offered me a drink. Avery’s dad. He…didn’t know. It’s been three months—I can be around people drinking, Pen.”

 

Her heart clenched at the sound of his voice. He seemed…lost.

 

“I know you can.”

 

She knew it in her heart and soul. Schneider had come so far in these last few months, and she couldn’t be prouder of him.

 

A sigh omitted from the other end of the phone.

 

“But she didn’t tell them anyway.”

 

Penelope winced, standing up from the kitchen table and making her way towards the couch, her heart heavy.

 

As she sat down, she chose her next words carefully.

 

“Maybe,” she began, making sure her tone was as clear as possible to cut through the haze of Schneider’s anxiety, “she was just waiting for the right time. Having them meet you, see how great you are, how being a recovering-alcoholic doesn’t define you.”

 

She remembered saying something similar to Victor back in the day. About how there was no shame in being an alcoholic, once he just admitted it and got help.

 

But he never did. Not when they were still together anyway.

 

She shook her head, trying to banish those old demons. Schneider wasn’t Victor. They couldn’t be more different in how they handled their disease. Nobody knew that more than her.

 

“What if she’s ashamed of me, Penelope?”

 

Her heart sank. She barely heard him he said it so softly. The image of a lost little boy sprung into her mind.

 

“Then she’s an idiot,” she blurted without thinking, shifting on the couch, “—sorry, I don’t mean that. What I mean is,” she sighed, scrambling to organize her thoughts, “I don’t think she’s ashamed of you, Schneider. She would be an idiot to. But I’ve met her. She’s no fool.”

 

Avery was besotted with Schneider. That much was obvious. Penelope just wasn’t always sure if her commitment went beyond that. Not that she’d ever say so to her best friend. It wasn’t her place.

 

“She’s dating me.”

 

She could hear the unspoken, _how smart can she be then?_

 

“Yeah,” she agreed easily, “like I said. She’s no fool.”

 

She could practically hear the smile in his tone as he replied quietly, “Thanks, Pen.”

 

She answered his smile with her own. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see her.

 

“It’s just a night at the opera,” he breathed into the phone, sounding a lot less stressed, “I can do this.”

 

Pride bloomed in her chest.

 

“Better than I could,” she replied, not able to hold back a snort of laughter, “All that Italian? Hard pass.”

 

She was pleased to hear a chuckle at that.

 

Quickly, she tapped through some pictures on her phone, sending him some. Knowing that he could still do with the pick-me-up.

 

“I just sent you some new dogs in wigs in case you need them though.

 

“You’re the best, Pen.”

 

Warmth flooded her veins.

 

“I know,” she murmured, leaning back on the couch, “You can thank me by making sure Mami doesn’t get busted disturbing the peace again.”

 

“Deal.”

 

She waited a beat, giving him a moment to collect himself.

 

“Bye, Schneider. Go listen to some depressing Italian.”

 

He laughed, “Arrivederci, Pen.”

 

She slowly lowered her phone, soft smile on her lips. He seemed better. She did her best friend duty.

 

Now, back to paper—

 

Her eyes caught on the grinning picture of Dr Arms with the Rottweiler puppies.

 

Shaking her head, she clicked out of it and placed her phone face down on the coffee table.

 

A vet and a vet? It would never work.

~*~

 

“Hola, mi familia! I have returned!”

 

Penelope rolled her eyes, straightening up from where she had been folding laundry in her room. Her mother was back from the opera, then. Forever making entrances, that woman.

 

“ _H_ ola Alvarezes,” another familiar voice chimed in, hard ‘H’ and all.

 

_Schneider?_

 

He hadn’t said he would be coming back to their apartment after the opera ended, but when she thought about it, Penelope couldn’t say she was surprised. She knew he had been rattled on the phone, probably more so than he was even letting on to her. His tone just now had been off, too, she could tell. Even in those six short syllables.

 

When she heard her Mami head to Alex’s room to say goodnight, Penelope’s feet carried her out of her own room and down the hallway, a pair of socks still clenched in her hand. Her eyes soon fell on his crumpled form, laying sagged on their couch, his head tilted back, eyes closed behind his signature glasses.

 

The suit looked…good. A deep midnight-blue that was almost black save for when the light caught it. An unravelled tie lay draped around his neck, his suit jacket hanging on the back of the couch, his cuffs undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbow.

 

He was dishevelled, but not in a bad way. Rather, the way that sometimes-caught Penelope off guard. A way that sometimes reminded her how handsome her best friend really was when he wasn’t trying to be a hipster, bespectacled, taller version of Paul Rudd.

 

_Not that Paul Rudd wasn’t hot ‘cause…wow. Ant Man could get it!_

 

Shaking her head at her dwindling thoughts, Penelope focussed on the important task at hand. Taking the last few steps into the living room, she remarked with just a hint of sarcasm, “Someone looks comfy.”

 

His eyes stayed firmly closed as he mumbled back, “I still maintain this couch is more comfortable than my bed. And that’s covered in the finest cotton Egypt has to offer.”

 

She rolled her eyes, hard, before zeroing in on his face, trying to gauge any emotion he was trying to conceal.

 

“I think they liked me.”

 

His voice was small, but firm.

 

“I know they did,” she replied just as firmly.

 

“They probably won’t anymore when Avery tells them.”

 

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. It was everything she feared after hearing his admission in AA a couple of weeks ago. That he would have a set-back like this. Something that made him doubt his recovery, knock his confidence, make him feel…unworthy due to his disease.

 

Everything Schneider didn’t deserve.

 

She was compelled forward, sitting down next to him and resting her hand on his upper-arm.

 

“You don’t know that, Schneider. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. No one is perfect. At least you’re owning up to, and working through, your mistakes. Helping yourself get better. Not everyone can say that.”

 

She wholeheartedly believed every word she said. Not only did she have first hand experience from Victor, but even in her own life and past too. She wasn’t perfect, she couldn’t always do everything alone, she owned up to that and went to therapy and took her pills to help her manage. To better her life in a healthy way. And she had no doubt that Schneider could too. Was already doing, in fact. She just wished he believed her.

 

“What if she doesn’t want to tell them at all?”

 

He sounded scared, then. Back to being that lost little boy. She wanted nothing more than give him all the answers. Guide him in the best way so he wouldn’t get hurt. But she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t her place.

 

Her brow crinkled as she forced herself to reply, “I can’t tell you that, Schneider. That’s for you to figure out. I’m sorry.”

 

“Corazón no cabezón, Schneider,” the voice of her mother suddenly wafted into the room.

 

Penelope’s frown deepened, trying to translate in her head. Rolling her eyes for what felt like the dozenth time, she swivelled to level Lydia with a look of disbelief, “Ay mami, that doesn’t even make sense. You’re just saying it because it rhymes.”

 

Poor Schneider was looking more lost by the second.

 

“What’s she saying?”

 

Penelope met his gaze, sighing, “Something like ‘heart not stubbornness’? I don’t know. It doesn’t translate perfectly. She’s just doing her motivational catchphrase crap again. Like a human bumper sticker that white girls slap on their cars.”

 

Unsurprisingly, her mother responded to this with her usual flare, throwing up her hands, storming over to her drapes, flinging them open and slamming them closed as someone would a door. Because she was just that extra.

 

She watched as Schneider’s eyes slid closed again, sighing.

 

“I think,” she murmured gently, “she means, don’t try and force things with Avery. Or feel like things gotta go a certain way. Follow your heart, not your head.”

 

“I thought it was head not beer?”

 

“Sí. That too,” her Mami called out in agreement.

 

Penelope erupted in a laugh, happy to see that Schneider did too, his eyes that had blinked back open, getting that Schneider-y shine back, even just a little. They caught her gaze.

 

“Head not beer, heart not head. It  _is_  good advice,” he mumbled, teeth catching his bottom lip, “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

 

The soft knock at the door did not come as a surprise to Penelope. Neither would the person behind it, if her instincts were in any way accurate. Patting Schneider’s knee, she swallowed down her trepidation and made her way towards the door.

 

_Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t—_

 

“Avery. Hi.”

 

Again, her instincts were spot-on. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if she loved or hated being right all the time.

 

The other woman gave her a pitiful attempt at a smile, “Hi, Penelope. Sorry, I know it’s late, I was just up at Schneider’s place but…” she trailed off when she no doubt caught sight of Schneider over Penelope’s shoulder.

 

She had to get out of here. They needed their space. Now.

 

Glancing between them, she forced her feet to unstick from the floor.

 

“We’ll give you two some space.”

 

She strode over to her mother’s drapes like a woman on a mission, reaching out to where she knew Lydia was standing, her ear practically pressed to the fabric, listening to every word, clasping her arm and gently pulling her out and down the hallway.

 

“Ay Lupe, what—” 

 

“Come on, Mami. Help me fold laundry.”

 

She practically had to shove her mother into her room, but she refused to feel bad about it. Schneider was going through something right now and he sure as hell didn’t need an audience.

 

“Lupe—”

 

“Mami, don’t,” she held up her hand, cutting the older woman off, picking up a T-shirt to fold and gesturing at her to do the same, “We shouldn’t interfere—”

 

“She doesn’t deserve him.”

 

That stopped Penelope in her tracks, shirt half-lowered onto the pile.

 

“What?” she asked, dropping her voice several decibels, “I—I thought you liked Avery?”

 

Lydia nodded, matching some socks, breaking her daughter’s shocked gaze, “Sí, I do. She is a smart, beautiful, nice woman. But that does not mean she deserves eSchneider.”

 

Penelope knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t help it.

 

“Mami—what does that even mean? Why wouldn’t she deserve him?”

 

Lydia just waved her hand dismissively, picking up another pair of socks and remarking, “You left the rest of the laundry basket in the hallway.”

 

She knew what she was doing. Damn her.

 

Rolling her eyes, Penelope stormed out as quickly and quietly as she could, tiptoeing towards the laundry basket just at the turn for the living room. She bent down to pick it up, turning on her socked-heel to make her way back.

 

“—talk at length about your demons at 3:30 in the morning with Penelope and then lie about it. Why is that, Schneider? Why is it that you’d rather confide in _her_ , spend your time with _her_ , and her family, when  _I’m_  the one you’ve said you love and want to be with?”

 

Penelope stood frozen in the hallway, her eyes widening as she caught her Mami’s gaze, standing not one foot away from her, overhearing the exact thing she was.

 

She held her breath, heart hammering in her chest as Avery continued, her breathing laboured by her tone firm.

 

“I think you need space to figure out what you really want, Schneider. Me? Or the Alvarezes.”

 

Penelope’s stomach dropped like a penny off the Empire State.

 

_No, no, please, no._

The image of a Schneider-less life came to her unwanted, flashing before her eyes like a macabre film reel. No family dinners, no baseball with Alex, no handywork with Elena, no overt flirting with Lydia, no late-night chats and comforting hugs and best friend shenanigans with her…

 

No more ‘Hola’ with a hard H.

 

_Shit._

 

“You can’t ask me to choose, Avery. Please.”

 

He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying.

 

It wasn’t fair.

 

A familiar stinging rose behind Penelope’s eyes as her Mami threw her a look of concern, apprehension and something a lot more heart-breaking.

 

“I don’t want to, Schneider,” Avery was continuing, sounding just as desperate and upset, “I really, really don’t. I like the Alvarezes. They’re good people, great people. But I—I won’t play second fiddle to them all the time. It’s not fair.”

Penelope’s heart clenched, guilt gnawing at her insides as she realised the other woman was right.

 

It wasn’t fair. Just—not just in the way she originally thought.

 

She couldn’t expect Schneider to pick them. None of them could. This was his life, his love, and it would be selfish of them to give all of that up just to eat breakfast and watch baseball and help fix sinks. This was Schneider’s future. And that was more important than them losing their friend. She would talk to the kids, reason with Mami…somehow deal with losing her best—

 

“They’re my family.”

 

His words, low but even, stopped her spiralling thoughts in their tracks.

 

“And despite having five moms and a dad growing up…I never felt more loved and part of a family, than when I’m with them,” he continued in a rush, clearly on a roll, “I went from a sad, lonely, oddball to—to having a mom who loved me more than a glass of sherry or her Valentino bag. To having two amazing, wonderful kids who look up to me, come to me for guidance and support. Nobody ever looked to me, the addict, the screw up, for anything. But  _they_  do. And—and Pen she…”

 

“She gets you. Better than anyone.”

 

Penelope’s heart practically stopped at those words, their familiarity ringing in her ears.

 

Avery _had_ been there that night. Had heard what they were talking about.

 

_Oh, my god._

 

Suddenly, Penelope leapt into action, unable to eavesdrop any more, hastily pushing her mom back into her room and following her, throwing the basket down onto the bed and running her hands through her hair.

 

“Lupe…what’s going on?”

 

Her mother levelled her with a look that she couldn’t decipher. Something that told her that she was asking a whole other question altogether.

 

She didn’t have time for this. She had to check on Schneider.

 

“Just—just stay there. I’m…going to see if he’s okay.”

 

Before Lydia could protest, Penelope stepped out of her room and down the hallway, halting just at the kitchen door.

 

Her heart continued to squeeze painfully in her chest as she caught sight of her best friend, shoulders slumped, eyes staring trance-like at their front door.

 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she croaked out, “…Schneider?”

 

He didn’t look at her.

 

“How much of that did you hear?”

 

Blood rushed in her ears as she frantically scrambled her brain for an answer. But turned out, her silence spoke volumes.

 

He gave a short nod, sniffling a little and clearing his throat.

 

He still didn’t look at her.

 

“Goodnight, Pen.”

 

His tone was back to that deadened, robotic, shell of his voice.

 

She took a step forward, “Schneider—”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he murmured, sounding anything but as halted at the door, “I just need to be alone for a bit.”

 

He stepped into the hallway and didn’t look back.

 

The snap of the door closing rang in Penelope’s ears for a long time.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> More to come soon! Again, sorry it just isn't a WIP. Hope it isn't too annoying to read like this.


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